


Frame of Reference

by liquidapathy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Dean Loves Pie, Destiel - Freeform, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Smut, sam is oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidapathy/pseuds/liquidapathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Team Free Will is on a case and whackiness ensues. Or, Dean and Castiel get it on and Sam drops his fork.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frame of Reference

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my very first fanfic and very first piece of writing (other than school-ish things) so please be kind. Comments and constructive criticism are strongly encouraged. I do not own Supernatural nor do I own these brilliant and beautiful characters.
> 
> wowza I just re-read this and it needs some serious editing/rewriting so I'll get on that asap.

Dean watched from his booth as Sam and Castiel approached the diner, both clad in their fed suits. Sam had a bounce in his step and a smile on his face; a sight that Dean had too-rarely seen. Dean smiled reflexively and turned his attention to Cas. Cas' face was contorted in a confused grimace, one eyebrow arched sky-high. Dean laughed aloud. Cas' confusion was bringing Sam joy. Yeah, they were definitely brothers.

Cas followed behind Sam as he pushed open the door of the diner and spotted Dean in the booth in the corner of the 50's-themed diner.

Dean sighed dramatically. “Finally. God. I thought maybe you two had eloped. Left me alone to die in this podunk diner. Pretty sure the waitress thinks I'm getting stood up.”

Sam huffed a laugh and Cas' confused expression seemed to dissipate. “Yeah, well. Agent Holmes over here decided to deduce the crap out of the poor witness.”

Cas' grimace returned. “I thought she may have been involved in the murders. I was only doing my job.”

Sam laughed again. “Yeah, doing your job a little too well. You can ease off, Cas. We really don't need to 'inform the witnesses of their mother's infidelity to their father'. Or tell them that it isn't customary for humans to 'wear the same clothing for multiple days at a time'. She's been human her whole life. She knows.”

Dean watched as Cas' grimace deepened. “I did apologize.” Cas' tone was one of resigned defensiveness.

Dean cut into the conversation. “Okay, okay. It's fine. Really. She'll get over it. Now can we order, please? I haven't eaten in, like, six hours.”

Sam rolled his eyes and opened his menu. Cas opened his menu half-heartedly and sighed.

“Seriously, Cas.” said Dean. “It's not that big of a deal. You're doing fine.” Dean almost flushed at the sound of his attempt to quiet Cas' discomfort. He and Cas had developed a mutual, thusfar unspoken understanding that they were probably, most likely, most definitely more than friends. Dean just wasn't going to act on it, and Cas was probably just too shy to physically further their relationship. _And that's just fine._ Dean thought. _We don't have time for that anyway._

Castiel's face brightened noticeably and he sighed in resignation. “Thank you, Dean.”

Sam rolled his eyes. _Get a room._ A waitress, who looked like she was about 17 years old, approached the table, looking very bored. “Welcome to Jerry's Diner, where you'll find the best pie in the state.” Her monotone voice could not possibly have been less enthusiastic as she drawled out the scripted greeting. “What can I get for you?”

Dean smiled at the waitress's sales pitch about the pie. Dean and Sam ordered their usual meals, and Cas decided on the diner's soup of the day. The waitress took their menus and started to walk away.

“Woah, woah, woah. And pie. We want pie, too. Apple. Three slices.”

Sam interrupted. “Uh, just two slices. I'm good.” Evidence of Sam's betrayal was written in Dean's scowl.

“We cannot possibly be related.”

*******

Dean had cleaned off his plate and started in on his pie. The first bite lit up his whole face and he grinned at Sam.

“Dude. You are _seriously_ missing out. This is, like, top contender for best pie in the country.” He paused. “Hell. This pie is better than sex.”

“Ok, dude.” Sam wrinkled his nose and raised an eyebrow. “I'll take your word for it.”

“No, no exaggeration.” said Dean, shaking his head. “Better than sex. Hands down. What do you think, Cas?”

Castiel considered his slice of pie with a serious expression. “I don't have much of a frame of reference for your claim, Dean. But this pie is excellent.”

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. “That'll teach me to ask you to back me up.”

Sam was getting antsy and _really_ tired of the Dean-Cas flirting that seemed to be happening more and more frequently. “Can we hurry this up, Dean? We've got a lot of research to do.”

“Neeeeeerd.” Dean drew out the insult as he stretched his too-full stomach. “Okay, okay. Let's go.” _Buzzkill_.

***

Crouched behind the couch, Dean listened in silence as he grasped for any sounds that might alert him to Cas' whereabouts. It wasn't supposed to go like this. They were just supposed to have dropped Sam off at the library, gone to Professor Sattler's house for information about the ancient runes that had been at the original crime scene, gotten the info, and gotten back to the motel. Not that hard. But, of course, nothing had gone according to plan.

And now Sam was at the library, totally unaware that Cas might be in grave danger and that Dean had sustained a concussion and maybe a broken rib or two. The monster had turned out to be a skinwalker, looking exactly like Professor Sattler and taking up residence in his typical suburban home. It was a random occurrence that Dean had decided to ask Sattler for his opinion. They had had no evidence to suggest that Dr. Sattler was actually a vicious monster. And yet here they were. _Story of my life._ Dean thought.

A shuffling noise off to Dean's right catalyzed a surge of adrenaline though his body. Through a crack between the sofa and the end table, Dean could see a leg clad in what looked like a fed suit. Cas. Dean slowly raised his head to peer over the top of the sofa. Cas was standing in the middle of the room, a silver knife in his hand, blood trickling down his forehead. He was looking concernedly off-balance. Dean jumped up as quickly as his own concussed brain would allow.

“Cas!” Cas turned quickly towards Dean's voice, much too quickly, and he stumbled forward. Dean lurched forward to steady him, ignoring the sharp twinge he felt in his ribs.

“Dean. Dr. Sattler. He's the killer. He's a skinwalker.”

Dean stared at Cas. “I know, Cas. I discovered that while _you_ were in the ‘bathroom’ and the nice suburban professor-man slammed my head into the wall.” He swallowed whatever irritation he was feeling. “You okay, man?”

Cas nodded slowly. “Yes. But you are not.”

Dean huffed a laugh and instantly regretted it, pain shattering across his torso. “I've had worse. C'mon.” He paused to look around. “Did you see where the skinwalker got to?”

“He went out the back door after he knocked me down. I don't think he was expecting us at all. The only thing he was interested in was getting away.”

Dean nodded definitively. “Yeah, and we sure as hell weren't expecting him. Fuck.” He surveyed the damage to Cas's head. “C'mon. We're just gonna get ourselves killed if we go after him now, no backup. Let's call Sammy and regroup, try and figure out where else he coulda gone.”

Cas shuffled closer to Dean, invading his personal space. “I'm glad you're all right, Dean.”

Dean could feel the heat radiating off of his own face. “Um. Yeah, you too, Cas. I mean, me too. Yeah.” Ah, yes. Suave Dean Winchester at the wheel.

And then, he found himself inexplicably leaning towards Cas, closing the small gap between them. _Woah, woah, woah, no. What am I doing?_ , he thought in panic. Another voice in his brain, one that sounded suspiciously like Sam, responded. _You're about to kiss Cas, you idiot. Deal with it._

And so he did. He sighed inwardly in relief when their lips finally met. No more pretenses, no more ambiguity, no more awkward tension he knew they were both acutely aware of. Dean could deal with this. Cas, on the other hand, was not responding as Dean had anticipated.

Cas had recoiled in surprise as Dean kissed him, going instantly still as if his brain had shorted out. And then he came alive, responding with enthusiasm like Dean had never seen him express. Dean involuntarily began to laugh. Cas pulled away from Dean in confusion.

“Wha-? Dean, I don't understand.” Cas looked at Dean with alarm, beginning to feel the hurt creeping up his spine.

Dean just continued to laugh, gripping Cas's shoulders for support.

“I'm... sorry.... Cas...” He gasped between laughs. “I'm just... really... really relieved. I'm happy.” He sobered up quickly. “I'm happy, Cas.”

Castiel looked hugely relieved. He returned Dean's smile and grabbed a fistful of Dean's plaid overshirt. Dean's eyes widened in surprise as Cas brought their lips together again, this time with an appropriate amount of enthusiasm. Dean kissed him earnestly, running his tongue along Cas's bottom lip as he tangled his hands in Cas's perpetually wind-blown hair. Cas responded by pressing the length of his body against Dean's, aligning their hips together just so. Heat and adrenaline swooped through Dean's body, valiantly fighting against a moment of rational thought. _This is not the place. Cas is hurt. My head is swimming. Sam is expecting us..._

Dean pulled his lips away from Cas's but left their bodies aligned together. “Cas. We gotta- uh- we gotta go get Sam. And take care of your head. You're probably concussed.”

Cas gazed at Dean with dazed eyes. “Yes. Yes, I am feeling very strange. But I'm not sure which feelings I should be attributing to my brain injury and what feelings are associated with kissing you.”

Dean flushed. “Yeah, um, let's go fix ourselves up. Yeah?” Cas seemed to realize that vocalizing their romantic exchange had embarrassed Dean.

“Yes.” As an afterthought, he added, “I won't discuss this with Sam.”

Dean felt relief course through him. “Thanks, Cas. I just-”

“I know.” Cas smiled and then returned to his serious self. “We are both concussed. Who is driving to the library?”

“Sure as hell ain't you, Angel Boy. We're waiting 'til you're at least sixteen in human years before you get a license to drive my baby.”

****

“Sammy. We're done at Sattler's house. It's him, it’s Sattler. He's a skinwalker. Roughed Cas and I up a bit.”

“What?” Dean could hear Sam's incredulity over the phone. “Sattler? Shit. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, bitch. Just a couple of concussions. Maybe a few bruised and or broken ribs. Not a big deal.” Cas looked over at Dean sharply as the hunter recounted the rib injury. Dean ignored him. “We're pulling into the library now.”

Dean hung up after Sam agreed to meet them out front of the library. He jumped slightly as he felt Cas' fingers touch his battered side.

“Your ribs, Dean. I am sorry that I can't heal them.”

Dean shrugged off the apology and smiled at Cas. “You would if you could, man.” He paused. “Besides, no angel mojo means no dick angels controlling your brain. It works out.”

Cas smiled sadly and leaned forward to express his gratitude for Dean's acceptance of his loss of grace, but before he got very close to Dean, Sam tapped on the passenger side window, smirking as he tilted his head towards the back seat of the impala.

“Hey. Cas. Dibs on shotgun.”

****

They hadn't been in the motel room five minutes before Sam started commenting on Cas and Dean's behavior.

“Woah, Cas, haven't you and Dean had the 'personal space' talk lately?”

Dean jumped in. ”Yeah, Cas. Personal space.” But his amused smirk negated his comment.

Several ice packs and pupil checks later, and 30 minutes into a documentary about African wildebeest, Sam had had enough. He pushed his laptop away and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Okay. I get that Cas is into these nature documentaries, but _Dean_? What are you doing, man?”

Dean glowered at the TV, not bothering to turn his attention towards Sam. “Wildebeests are fuckin' metal, man. They're god damn 600 pound antelope.”

Dean had become acutely aware of just how close to Cas he was sitting. He tried to nonchalantly scoot away from Cas, but he was so sunk into the couch that he just kept sliding back towards him. He cleared his throat. “Sam? Don't you have to go get some toothpaste or something? Booze run? Yeah. Go get booze. Please.”

Sam sighed forcefully and pushed away from his laptop. He could definitely use a beer.

“Fine. I'll go. But only because I want a beer, too. Not for you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean watched as Sam grabbed the keys and pulled on his jacket.

“Hey. If you crash my car, so help me, I will skin you alive.”

Sam didn't deign to respond to Dean's obsessive threat. He slammed the door on his way out, but Dean knew there was no real malice in it. Dean turned to Cas to make fun of Sam, and found that Cas' face was already quite close to his.

“Uh. Hey.” Dean couldn’t help but glance down at Castiel’s lips. They were so – close. “Wh-” Cas silenced him by pressing their lips together. He prodded his tongue against Dean's closed lips insistently. For a moment, Dean was too stunned to respond appropriately. Cas was getting bold. And Dean was getting hard. He found his right hand wrapping around the back of Castiel's neck, teasing fondly at the nape of his neck with his fingertips, his lips moving in perfect synchronicity with the angel's. _Looks like Cas is just naturally good at this, too. Like everything else. It's not like the guy has any real previous experience..._ The thought increased his intensity, a sudden desire to claim Cas as his own tightened his grip and sped up his rhythm.

Dean was suddenly overwhelmed as Cas clambered onto his lap, his knees on either side of Dean's hips. _Holy shit._ Dean's arms automatically wrapped around Cas' whole body, bringing them as close together as physically possible, consequently bringing their hips together in a flash of intense heat. Dean rolled his hips up, desperate for friction. Cas gasped and replicated the gesture, earning a groan from Dean. If Dean had ever had a sexuality crisis about the way he definitely, obviously, intensely felt about Cas, it seemed almost insignificant now.

Dean reached up to wrap his hands around Castiel's hips as much as he could, pulling the angel down onto his lap harder, wildly needing more pressure, more heat. Dean exhaled forcefully, involuntarily releasing a desperate groan.

“C-cas. Fuck. Jesus fuck.” Dean dragged his hands up Cas' back, knotting his hands into the former angel's hair. Using his newfound leverage, he held Cas's head in place with a vice-like grip as he trailed kisses down his neck. Dean felt Cas tremble, felt his muscles tense and reflexively shy away from Dean's whispering kisses. “Cas, I want-”

Keys jingled in the door. Dean's stomach dropped out. _Well that was fast._ Cas growled in frustration as Dean pushed the angel off of him, adrenaline surging through their bodies, pants uncomfortably tight. The wildebeest documentary had ended, so Dean pretended to be intensely focused on the lewd commercial for KY Jelly lube that was now playing. _Oh god. This is not helping._ Dean glanced over at Cas as Sam nudged the motel room door open with his toes.

“There's a liquor store literally across the parking lot. So I got you another bottle of whiskey, Dean. But I got beer for the more reasonable of us alcoholics. Do you-”

Sam stopped and looked over at Cas and Dean, his eyes narrowing as he took in Dean's red-tinted cheekbones and the tension that was almost physically radiating out of Cas. Cas was sitting on the edge of the couch, his back perfectly straight, his eyes fixed straight ahead on the wall to the right of the television.

“Um. Everything okay? Are you guys fighting or something?”

Dean seized the opportunity. “Yes. Yeah.” His voice was already gruff enough to pull this off. “Dammit Cas. Uh. Don't do... that.”

Castiel did not catch on. His face turned down as he considered Dean's manufactured irritation. “Do wha- Dean? One minute we were-” Comprehension dawned. “Oh. Yes. My apologies. I will refrain from doing...” He hesitated. “That.”

Sam was thoroughly confused. “Can you two be normal for, like, five minutes? Jesus.” He tossed Dean a beer. “Have a beer. Chill out.”

Dean risked a glance in Cas's direction. The newly-human angel was attempting not to smile, trying not to give them away. It was going to be a long night.

***

The next morning, Dean was up and in the shower before anyone else. He had a crick in his abused back from sleeping on the motel couch, and he seriously needed a … release. _Something_ to get rid of the awful tension that had been building for days. Too-hot water scalded down his back, refreshing his memory of the almost unbearable heat he had endured last night. _Shit._ Dean thought. _We can't keep doing this. One day Sammy is gonna figure it out. Or walk in. Oh, Jesus._ Dean shook off that thought. _Or, I'll literally die from blue balls. Pretty sure that's a legitimate concern here._ He found himself reaching for his cock. _I can't handle this. Fuckin' hell, Cas. What have you done to me?_ He couldn't help the images that flashed through his mind as he stroked his already-hard cock. _Slamming Cas into the wall. Tearing that stupid, perfectly tailored fed suit off of his shoulders. Running his hands down Cas's still-clothed stomach, reaching for his belt. Taking his cock into his mouth-_ Dean came forcefully, biting down on his lower lip to keep from making any incriminating noises. “Fuck.” He breathed. _I just came imagining giving Cas a blow job. That is so not normal._

Dean jumped out of the shower and toweled off, afraid that he had been in the bathroom for a suspicious amount of time. He had forgotten to take fresh clothes into the bathroom with him, so he wrapped the towel tightly around his waist and exited the bathroom. Cas was sitting on the end of his bed in his boxers and one of Dean's old t-shirts, his hair sticking out at every possible angle. He rubbed his eyes and glanced over at Dean as the hunter walked into the room. He quickly looked away before doing a double take and letting his gaze rest on Dean's … not-eyes. Cas suddenly looked very awake, his pupils visibly dilating and his adam's apple visibly bobbing. A familiar heat swooped through Dean. _Jesus fucking Christ. I just got off and now I'm getting a boner. Perfect. Dammit, Cas._

Dean shot a quick look at Sam who was still sleeping soundly, his gigantic limbs hanging off the side of his bed.

“Mornin' Cas.”  
Castiel visibly swallowed again. “Hello, Dean.” As an afterthought, he added, “How was your shower?”

Dean couldn't help blushing up to his ears. _There's no way Cas knows I came to the thought of sucking him off. Chill out._

“Good. Yeah. Good. Um-” He rubbed the back of his neck self consciously. “Just gonna-” He gestured feebly. “Clothes. You know.”

“Yes.” Cas never made an effort to help him with the awkward situation thing.

Sam stirred and wriggled in his bed, shaking the entire bed frame. Dean hurried to his duffel, grabbed his clothes and made for the bathroom again. He was going to have to remember to bring his clothes in from here on out. He couldn't handle one more second of Cas's greedy eyes on his mostly naked body. Not with Sam in the room, anyway.

****

The day went by quickly; Sam and Cas went to the library to research possible hiding places for the skinwalker and Dean went to the homes of a few of Dr. Sattler's acquaintances and interviewed them. They had collectively decided that Cas had better not do any more interviews.

They met up in the town's most popular bar in the late afternoon. They had a pretty good idea of the section of sewer system that they might find the skinwalker in. Sam had gotten the city's sewer blueprints at the library and he and Cas had looked for places that could serve as a skinwalker lair.

Sam had ordered Cas and Dean each a beer and was sat down at the edge of the bar. He looked up with a smile as Dean approached. He addressed Dean and Cas with an authoritative, but furtive tone. “What do you think, guys? Feeling good enough to hunt a skinwalker tonight?”

Dean huffed a laugh. “Sammy, please. We got a couple o' concussions two days ago. We're not gonna cry about it. We're good.”

Cas nodded in agreement. “Yes, we need to hunt the skinwalker before he has a chance to hurt anyone else. Dean and I will be fine.”

Sam nodded, “Right. Well, I sort of, uh-” He slid a slip of paper towards them. A telephone number was scrawled across it, the handwriting very obviously female. “I, uh, have an appointment right about now, so you two can get ready for tonight and I'll be back... around midnight.”

Dean grinned at Sam, almost too enthusiastically. “That's my boy! Go get 'em tiger.”

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed as he got up to leave. “Oh, God.” His tone was pure sarcasm. “Thanks, Dean.”

Dean smacked the back of his head as he passed, pride coursing through him. _Look at him go, the devil. I have taught him well._ He watched as Sam exited the bar, clambering in to a waiting car outside.

Cas took a swig of beer and cleared his throat. “Dean-” he began, sounding as though he was attempting to be delicate.

Dean recognized the situation as a golden opportunity. “Shut up, Cas. Motel room. Now.”

“Wha-”

“C'mon.” Dean tossed a $10 bill on the bar and grabbed Cas's arm forcefully. He was not going to wait another minute for this. He physically could not.

***

Dean shut the Impala's driver's side door with a little too much force as soon as he had parked in the motel parking lot. In normal circumstances he would have flinched and chastised whoever had slammed his baby's door. But these were not normal circumstances. Not at all.

Half of Dean's brain was screaming in protest as he met Cas around the front of the Impala and made a fist around the ex-angel's tie. _What am I doing? Oh, sweet mother of God. What if Cas isn't as into me as he thinks he is? What if he just doesn't understand the human thing and he's got this all backwards and doesn't actually want-_

Cas interrupted Dean's panicked musings by running his hands down Dean's torso, stopping dangerously, _agonisingly_ close to his cock.

 _Nope. If that's not a clear signal, I've never seen one in my life. Fuckin' hell._ Dean's confidence grew as he walked backwards toward the motel room door, dragging Cas along with him by his tie. Cas's pupils were blown wide, shining in anticipation; the veins on his neck were standing out, straining against his perfectly complected skin.

Dean managed to concentrate for long enough to get the motel room door unlocked and he swung them both into the room, unwilling to let go of Castiel for any amount of time. _This is it. This is finally it._ Dean thought, his anxiety mounting with every second, along with the heat and pressure in his groin.

Dean kicked out behind the conglomeration that was the hunter and the angel to shut the door. Cas had attached himself to the lapels of Dean's jacket, his knuckles whitening in his attempt to hold on to Dean. Dean felt his pants getting tighter and tighter alarmingly quickly. In need of immediate relief, he ground his hips against Cas's, gasping as he felt himself come into contact with Cas's already-hard cock.

Cas grunted in response, returning the pressure and taking his lips down Deans neck, where he rested them, feeling his own hot breath against Dean's straining neck muscles. Dean moved them towards Cas's bed. He figured Sam wouldn't appreciate him fucking Castiel senseless on his bed. _Not that he'll ever know about... us._

As they reached the bed, Cas moved to sit on the edge, grasping the back of Dean's head in an attempt to bring Dean down on top of him. Dean replicated the position that Cas had been in yesterday when they watched the documentary, kneeling over Cas on the bed, his knees on the sides of Cas's hips, their cocks conveniently, _devastatingly_ aligned. Cas's lips continued to explore Dean's neck as they fell onto the bed. As their cocks bumped together, Cas bit down on Dean's neck reflexively.

Dean yelped. And then he got aggressive. He planted his hand firmly on Castiel's chest, just beneath his collarbones and shoved him so that he was lying flat on his back, still underneath Dean's frantically gyrating hips.

 _“Fuck. Dean.”_ The urgency in Cas's voice made Dean's stomach drop out of his toes. Dean struggled to regain control. _Not yet. Oh, not fuckin' yet. We got a long way to go._

“Cas. Pants. Now.” Dean slid down the angel's legs so that he was standing at the edge of the bed and grasped Cas's knees. He looked up to meet Cas's eyes as he slowly slid his hands up his legs. Cas gasped and squeezed his eyes shut when Dean reached his belt, running his palms over the very obvious bulge that was Cas's cock.

Dean unbuckled the belt quickly, feeling like delaying any more would _actually_ kill him. Cas lifted his hips to assist Dean in removing his pants, and Dean wasted no time in removing both the angel's pants and his boxers. Cas turned his attention to divesting himself of his shirt, and Dean stripped faster than he ever had in his life. His skin was burning and his heart was racing with anticipation and arousal.

Now, now that they were both naked, Dean climbed back on to Castiel's lap, the sensations of moving across the angel's smooth skin leaving him breathless and achingly hard. Cas watched him with wide eyes, taking in all that Dean's well-worn and well-scarred body had to offer.

Dean paused, attempting to _get a damn grip_. “Cas. Cas, you okay?”

Castiel snapped his head back against the pillow in exasperation. “Dean. Fuck me. _Please_.”

Heat slammed through Dean's body at Castiel's plea, and he stretched to reach into his duffel bag that had been left on the side of the bed. He dug out the Vaseline he often -uh- used, and popped open the lid. He slathered some onto the fingers of his right hand, seconds away from panic.

 _I'm about to finger Cas. With lube. Oh God._ Fuck _this is hot._

Dean stole one last glance at Cas, searching for anything that might indicate that he wasn't ready or comfortable. All he saw was his angel, ex-angel, sprawled underneath him, looking completely fucked-out. And they hadn't even gotten started yet. Dean took that as a green light.

He shuffled off of Cas and onto his knees, moving down towards Cas's knees, and pulled his legs up so that his calves rested on top of Dean's shoulders, Dean's cock _so fucking close_ to Castiel's ass. Steeling himself, he slowly slid one Vaseline-lubricated finger into Cas, his cock twitching as Castiel moaned his approval.

“Oh, Dean. Fuck. Dean. _More_.”

Dean slid another finger into Cas and then another, working him in slow movements, relishing the absolutely obscene noises that the angel made. Dean leaned forward and took Cas's lips with his own, interrupting a moan that would have made any porn star proud. He kissed him with increasing intensity, the rhythm of his fingers matching the rhythm of his tongue. He was going to lose it. Just like this.

“Cas, can I-” He practically whined.

“ _Yes_. Hurry.” Dean reached into the bedside table for a condom, a tool of the trade that was always handy in a Winchester motel room. He rolled it on effortlessly. The familiarity of the action calmed his nerves, if just a little bit. _This ain't my first rodeo. Well. Sort of._

“Okay. Okay.” Dean pulled back so that he could align his cock with Cas's entrance, his hands framing Castiel's hipbones. He took a deep breath and let out a shuddering exhale before he slowly pushed into Cas.

Aaaaaaand, he was pretty sure his nervous system had just exploded. He was assaulted with overwhelming sensation as he fucked into Cas, desperate to just find some relief from this excruciating pleasure.

“Cas.” He managed to choke out. “Hnng.”

Cas reached forward and grabbed Dean's wrists in an attempt to ground himself. “ _Dean. Fuck me_.”

_Fuck! Don't mind if I do._

Dean pulled out until the only the head of his cock was filling Cas before pushing back in with a new desperate enthusiasm. Again and again, he fucked in and out of Cas, getting faster and faster as he got more desperate. He had never been more turned on in his life.

“Dean, I'm so close. I'm so close.”

Dean could only groan/grunt in response. The power of speech had long since failed him, but he was definitely close to absolutely losing his mind. He wrapped his calloused hand around Cas's cock and gently tugged, giving Cas what he would consider the ideal handjob.

Cas's breath stuttered and his entire body began to tense, giving Dean a whole new set of sensations. Dean was about one second from the edge when Cas came, hard, forgetting to breath and yelling out unintelligibly. Dean followed instantly, his orgasm slamming through him as he fought to keep himself upright. As the raw ecstasy faded from his system, it was replaced by a warm exhaustion, filling his entire body and especially his brain. He slowly relaxed.

He was laying on top of Cas, his head resting on the former angel's chest. He pulled out of Castiel slowly, and looked up to gauge Castiel's reaction to all of – this. Dean did not expect what he saw.

Cas's face was split into a grin; a content, placid smile that Dean had never seen Cas wear. He met Dean's gaze and his smile softened and faltered before it disappeared altogether. He looked worried.

“Was that – all right? Dean?”

Dean stared at him, dumbfounded. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He crawled up Cas’s body so that their faces were aligned and kissed him, savoring the touch. Castiel kissed him back, lazily, still a little bit breathless.

“Castiel. That was the best. fucking. sex. I have _ever_ had. And – I don't mean to brag, man- but I've had a lot of sex. With girls. Not – with- yeah.”

Cas smiled and kissed him, his lips only gently brushing Deans'.

“Thank you, Dean.”

_What are you thanking me for? I should be thanking you._

“Yeah, Cas. Any time.” He stopped. “Seriously, any time. Preferably many more times.”

Cas chuckled softly. “I would like that.”

Dean rolled off of Cas so that they were side-by-side and Cas turned so that Dean could curl up behind him. “Lesson One: This is called 'spooning', Cas.”

“We should do more of this as well.”

Dean heartily agreed. And he didn't even care that he had Cas's come all over his stomach. He was content to spend this moment worry-free with his friend, his angel, his lover.

***

The next thing he knew, he was being woken by Cas calling his name and pressing his lean body up against his front.

“Dean. It's nearly 11 o'clock. Sam will be back from his 'appointment' soon. Dean?”

Dean groaned. God damn little brother had to go and ruin everything. “Dean? Perhaps we should shower.”

Dean definitely needed a shower, and he assumed Cas did, too. _What with the crazy hardcore sex we had. Damn. We had sex. I fucked Cas._

Dean was pulled from his reverie as his phone buzzed. Text.

**Dean. Be home in an hour. Everything ready to go?**

Dean texted Sam an affirmative and rolled out of the bed. “C'mon Cas. There's another perk of being human I need to introduce you to. It's called sweet, hot shower sex.”

Cas shuddered involuntarily and Dean grinned at his angel's response.

_Why have we not been doing this for the last 4 years?_

***

By the time Sam returned, looking relatively well-laid himself, Dean and Cas had showered, cleared the room of any incriminating evidence, and loaded up the Impala for anything they'd need for the skinwalker hunt.

“So, Sammy.” Dean had honed his teasing tone over the years. “How was your 'appointment'?” His tone perfectly created the airquotes for maximum suggestiveness.  
Sam's expression remained placid despite the obvious teasing and he smiled a small smile at Dean. “Oh, it went really well. Yeah. It's been – _how_ long? Since you got laid, Dean?”

Castiel barked a cough that sounded suspiciously like its purpose was to cover a laugh.

Dean didn't take the bait. “Shut up, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

***

Three hours, three silver knives, and many miles of sewer pipes later, and Team Free Will had a dead skinwalker on their hands.

“Dude. We should have been hunting all together this whole time.” Dean observed. “It only took us three hours to bring down a damn skinwalker, and nobody needs stitches. I'd call that a win.”

Sam laughed and clapped Cas on the shoulder. “Yeah, Cas. It's good to have you.”

Something in Dean cracked and caused a flood of warm emotion to wash through his system. The two people he cared about most in the world. Right here. And here to stay. He could get used to this.

***

They boys had trudged back to the motel room for a solid 5 hours of sleep, and woke up the next morning feeling accomplished. They'd planned to set out for a potential job in Minnesota after breakfast.

“Diner for breakfast?” Dean suggested. Sam and Cas had assented, and they once again found themselves in the diner, this time on the way out of town. Mission(s) accomplished.

Dean ordered pie and coffee, Cas followed suit, and Sam ordered a garden omelet. They chatted and bantered about Rougarous and Sam's 'crappy taste in music' and Dean couldn't really remember a time when things were so right. The waitress brought their order and they dug in, a calm settling around them.

“Mmmm!” Dean aggressively appreciated the pie for the second time that week. “This pie is damn good.” He thought for a moment, a smile gracing his lips. “But, you know what? This pie is so _not_ better than sex.” He looked up purposefully at Cas.

Cas looked very surprised by Dean's candid implication of their sexual encounter. But he was encouraged by Dean's boldness.

“I agree, Dean. I agree.”

Sam dropped his fork.

“Oh my God.” Sam was the picture of shock and disbelief. “You- Cas- What? Oh God. Don't answer that.” He looked down at the table, his face rapidly approaching the hue of the ketchup.

Dean was encouraged by Sam's mortification. “Yep. Get used to it, Sammy.”

Sam glowered at first Dean, then Cas. “Ugh. Fine. But no details. Dean, I mean none. You're my brother, and I love you, but I don't need to know about your sex life. At all.”

Dean laughed sincerely, feeling a deep surge of affection for his little brother’s acceptance. And also a surge of affection for Cas. He smiled genuinely at Castiel, kicking at his toe under the table. Cas smiled back.

And for the first time in a long time, Dean looked forward to having a tomorrow.


End file.
